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Why in the world did I pick up this book? How in the world did I finish it? I mean my math skills are zero. Absolute Zero to be exact. Yet there I was, reading away wanting to know what happened next. Paul Dirac really was "The Strangest Man". He would, literally, not give you the time of day. That's my take on his disdain for small talk, not the authors. Yet I was rooting for him the whole way. Hoping he'd get that breakthrough or recognition. Hats off to the author Graham Farmelo for enticing a lout like me into the world of particle physics.

The Bird and Our Story:This unique little shop opened its doors in February of 2006. We've been adding shelves ever since. The nooks and crannies are stuffed with more than 25,000 titles. We also serve specialty drinks using Kootenay-roasted Oso Negro coffee. Stop in, order a coffee, browse and relax. Enjoy the tactile pleasures and smells that real books continue to offer.A Little About Us:Our mission at Kingfisher is to be part of a very special little town. To sell tickets, display community posters, hang art work and provide a meeting place. To be more than just a used bookstore. A warm cozy spot on a wet winter day. A shady place in the heat of summer. Visit and enjoy.

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Read-Red-Dig-Dug

A customer recommended Edith Wharton and I must say the writing was a treat. Of a time when we were closer to nature. The discriptions of everyday life are so rich and full. Of the weather, flowers, crops, horses, fields, skylines. A joy to read. I'm still not so sure about the subject matter. Is is just me or do a lot of these turn of the century pieces read like the classic grade twelve graduation accident. You know the ones with this bit of tragic irony. The cop, paramedic, nurse, doctor is horrified to find it's his/her son/daughter who's a victim in this tramatic crash-up. It's as if the Bronte sister never moved past that piont in their life. That adolencent love/tragedy. Am I wacky or is there some truth in what I'm saying?

Young Robert is our hero and Arthur Slade has done a good job introducing us to him and letting him tell his story. The book is labeled " Young Adult Fiction " but I'd add slash fantasy. It's a good story of the prairies and the dust bowl years out around the Cypres Hills. I don't want to let on any more lest I spoil a good read. Well, and fun to read of our own land by a Canadian author. I've got to do more of that. Not the CBC top 100 though. Quantifying everything is for accountants, not something you do to paintings, books, places. Just try to read a few more of our own writers, that's enough. I don't think we need lists to tick off.

Journalist seem to love to use extremes when telling a story. The Laferty brothers are just that. Extreme. The other ninety nine percent are, I suspect, much like you and I, every day people. Having said that the Later Day Saints believe they are Gods chosen people. They also believe to be led by revelations from God to a living prophet. Take those ideas and hand them over to the fundamentalist LDS movement and things get a little weird. And weird barely begins to describe the tale this book tells of the FLDS movement.

So all this time I thought Inspector Renko was just the best. Only now I learn he's nothing but a Hollywood phony. In fact I think I've learnt more about what it was like living in Stalin's Russia reading this one book than I ever will reading all of Martin Cruz Smiths novels. I still get a kick out of Arkady Renko but.... Ms Lewycka tells us the real story of what it took to survive in a totalitarian state. It's the story of her parents, two sisters, and a crazy gold-digger Ukrainian immigrant. Maybe not the greatest novel but she personalized things and it's a fun story.

What a gritty book. Boxing. Two guys. Ernie Munger. Billy Tully. Small time, small town, one step up from brawling. Unlike Hollywood this book feels way to real. The guys will never rise above were they came from. Which is pretty much were they are now. One working at a gas station with a wife and baby at home. The other on his way down. Divorced after an oh so short rise in the fight world. Now an itinerant picker showing up at a labour pool at five in the morning to catch the bus out to the fields. Harvesting whatever crop is in season and returning worn out to crash at the cheapest flop house he can find. There is just no way out. No phone number in his back pocket. No one to call. Nowhere to go. This is it. This is Fat City by Leonard Gardner.

What a breath of fresh air. It's just fun. No retired special ops Green Berets type detective, no divorced recovering alcoholic cop, no big climactic shake-down shootouts. It's just fun. Well, there is a hint of that nostalgic good old days theme but I'm not even going there. Alan Bradley has done just the most wonderful job of taking us back to a time when people used the most brilliant of expressions or sayings. "To be most effective, flattery is always best applied with a trowel." Flavia de Luce is a hoot. Kind of a cross between Pippi Longstocking and Nancy Drew. What a great heroine.